daddy's girl ❥ luke hemmings ✔️

02. "daddy, please"

LUKE

I sigh, bringing the rim of the green glass beer bottle up to my lips and taking what seems to be the longest gulp I've ever had of an alcoholic drink. It runs down the back of my throat and coats the inner linings of where I breath with a slippery liquid of bitter intoxication, causing my head to fall back in pure bliss.

Fuck, I think, groaning internally. Haven't had one of these in a long time.

"Okay, Mr Minute Chugger," Michael grimaces, looking at me with wide eyes from across the room. He, too, has a beer bottle in his hand, but unlike mine, it's not already half empty. "You can calm the fuck down."

"Sorry." I mutter, eyeing the yellowish liquid with sunken eyes. "I'm just thirsty."

"No, you're deprived," Calum rolls his eyes. He lifts the tray of beer bottles up and places them on the coffee table in front of us, blowing a smoke ring from a large contraption into the air. I pull a face, fanning it away. "How long has it been since you had a proper drink?"

"Hm?" I want him to repeat the question because I'm stupid and didn't quite catch it the first time.

"As in, at parties and stuff. In a bar. Drinks like those."

I puff my cheeks out, rack my brain. The information's stored up there somewhere, I'm pretty sure, but it's proving to be a difficult task to find it at the moment because the beer in my hand is all I can think about.

"I don't know," I end up admitting, truthfully, as I run a hand through the messy curls on top of my head. I need to do something about it, maybe get a haircut or shorten the untamable fringe at least, and fast. Sophie always complains that it makes me look like a caveman and apparently, she can't have a Daddy who picks her up from school looking like a Flinstone. "Since the tour started."

"Which one?" Michael jokes, though I take it more seriously due to the fact that I can't remember myself. I haven't had a drink in a while because Sophie doesn't like it. I stopped for that sole purpose because I admit, I don't like seeing her so worried about me and I did used to get drunk to the point where I couldn't even remember my own name.

"Daddy, please," she'd confronted me that very morning after one of the craziest nights I'd ever had in my entire life, a pout on her pretty little face as she wrung her arms around my neck. My head was still pounding from the hangover and my mouth incredibly dry from the body shots taken the night prior, but I clung onto her waist like it was my lifeline all the same. "Please stop drinking."

"I don't drink that much."

"You called me Samantha last night," she then huffed. For a sixteen year old, she wasn't very tempermental- just a little impatient, at times. "You were very drunk. Who's Samantha?"

I shrugged, though I knew exactly who Samantha was; a random hook-up I had during the party who took off with my watch and half of the contents of my wallet. "Nobody." I replied back tiredly.

She frowned at me. A cute, antsy expression that made her eyebrows furrow and her eyes glint with uneasyness. "Daddy, why are you lying to me?" she asked. My stomach fell.

"I'm not lying to you, baby girl."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Hm?" I hadn't noticed, but a very wide and borderline creepy grin had crept onto my face and I was currently staring at my daughter-but-not-daughter-at-all with it at it's highest peak. I let the corners of my lips twitch downward, displaying a look on my face that made Sophie giggle.